Conference
by William Easley
Summary: Warning! Deals with serious adult themes. Once a classmate of Wendy's attacked her. Now she's trying to clear the record.
1. Chapter 1

**Conference**

 **(June 30, 2014)**

* * *

 **1**

 **From the Journals of Dipper Pines:** _Monday, June 30—Here I am at the counter of the gift shop in the Shack. Mabel is warming up to walk the floor of the shop and the museum and talk tourists into buying junk. She's happy because after he gets off work, Teek—T.K., I mean, that's what they're calling him now, Mabel started it—anyway, Teek and Mabel are going to go to the movies again._

 _And I don't know if Wendy will even show up today. Friday she told me she had something to do, so she wouldn't come over for our morning run, and she asked would I please sub for her until she could get here—"Might be late, dude," she said, sounding cheerful. But . . . she wouldn't kiss me goodbye on Friday or Saturday. "You might get to know too much," she said with a grin. "Don't freak, man. I'll tell you later."_

 _See, we have this weird telepathy now, when we're touching, so . . . we can talk to each other mentally and can catch flashes of each other's feelings, but we can no longer read every single thought. And also, it no longer works unless we're making body contact, by which I mean touching or, you know, kissing._

 _I told her she could trust me with anything. "Yeah, I know, Dip," she told me. "But seriously, I have a conference scheduled that I can't miss. I'll tell you about it later, depending on how it turns out, OK?"_

 _I guess it has to be._

 _I hope she's not in trouble…._

* * *

Dressed up, Wendy was an attractive girl. On that Monday morning she wore a black top, a demure gray skirt, and flats instead of her boots. She'd left the clothes she usually wore to work—flannel shirt, jeans, boots, fur trapper's hat—in her car, parked in the lot of Gravity Falls High School.

Mrs. Flanagan, the counselor, unlocked the front door for her and said, "Let's wait in the lobby, dear. You're early and the others won't be here for another few minutes."

"Sure," Wendy said. They sat on one of the uncomfortable sofas, and Wendy put the manila folder she'd carried in on a blond oak table beside her. "You know what this is about, right?"

Mrs. Flanagan, fortyish but looking five years younger with her chestnut hair and her ready smile, said, "I assume it's what we talked about before. Your wanting to go to college."

"Partly," Wendy said. "Mostly it's about some things on my record."

"Your suspension."

"Yes. I want to appeal to have it removed."

Mrs. Flanagan sighed. "Wendy, that's a very hard thing to do. After all, you were caught fighting on the school grounds. All things considered, a week was really a light punishment—"

Wendy opened the folder and handed a newspaper clipping to her. "Was it?"

The counselor's reading glasses hung around her neck on a thin chain. She put them on and read the clipping, really just a small article from, according to a ballpoint note at the top, the _Valley Advisor_ , an out-of-town newspaper:

* * *

 **Steffason guilty of rape, awaits sentence**

(Morris OR June 26) Local high-school football star Hendry Steffason, 18, was found guilty of rape this afternoon at the close of his trial.

Steffason was accused of raping a 16-year-old student at Olaf's Private School, where he was a senior. Her name has been withheld because of her status as a minor.

Steffason's parents, Mr. Adolphus Steffason and his wife Myrette, formerly of Gravity Falls, will testify at his sentencing hearing on Wednesday and vow to appeal the verdict. "Our son is a fine young man, and this is a vendetta on the part of the girl's family," his father told the _Advisor._

He added that Hendry's record is clean and that he has never before been accused of any act of violence "if you don't count the times he's sacked an opponent on the football field."

The crime of which he was convicted allegedly occurred in December of 2013, following a party celebrating the victorious season of the Olaf Rangers, the school's championship-winning football team. Steffason was Most Valuable Player for the season.

A pre-sentencing hearing is scheduled for Tuesday of next week. Sentencing is expected to be announced before July 4.

* * *

"I beat up Hendry Steffason," Wendy said. "Twice. First time was in December, 2012, the night after Christmas break started, when he tried to do to me what he really did to that poor girl."

"I remember you had said that," Mrs. Flanagan said, handing the clipping back to Wendy. "But you had no proof."

"I had torn clothing and a bloody nose and bruises," Wendy said. "And then in January after Christmas break, Hendry had my bra—which he tore off while trying to pin me down—and showed it around at school and claimed I'd slept with him and it was a souvenir. That's why I beat on him again."

Mrs. Flanagan's face turned red. "I . . . hadn't heard that."

"Yeah, and then after my suspension ended, I found that the Steffasons had taken Hendry out of school and moved to Morris with him. And guess what? He didn't change his ways one bit." She tapped her finger on the news item. "Exactly one year and one day after he tried it on me, he did what he wanted with this sixteen-year-old!"

"Is that why you asked—"

"Right. I want to face them and ask them to support expunging the record." Wendy tried to look cool, but her heart was pounding. Also, she hoped she was using "expunging" correctly. She should have asked Dipper.

"But you also asked for Mr. Halpers to come."

"Because he broke up the fight behind the gym. He overheard some of the dirty things Hendry said to me. And he tried to intervene with the principal's office to keep me from bein' suspended, but they wouldn't listen. Rules are rules, they said. 'Cept when it comes to protecting girls, I guess."

At that moment Keith Halpers, the rumple-haired shop teacher, unlocked the door and came in. He was wearing the clothes he usually taught shop in—a blue work shirt, tan jeans—but he had added a denim-look sport jacket. "Hey, Wendy," he said, coming over. "Mrs. Flanagan."

"How's it hangin', dude?" Wendy asked. Though with his bony frame and wire-rimmed glasses he didn't look like much of a he-man, the tall, skinny Halpers was a champ at arm-wrestling and a poker buddy of her dad's. And he was the one who'd taught her the basics of auto mechanics when she first got her car and started to work on it.

"Are they coming?" Halpers asked.

Mrs. Flanagan looked at her watch. "They should be here already. I'll call if they're not here in a quarter of an hour. Why don't you and Wendy go to the small conference room next to my office? I'll be along as soon as the Steffasons show up."

They did, and Mr. Halpers went down the hall to the break room and came back with two foam cups of coffee and a handful of creamer packets. Wendy dumped one in and stirred it with the red plastic stick he'd brought. "Thanks, man. No breakfast this morning."

"Dieting?"

"Scared," Wendy admitted. "Stomach all in knots. I've got my heart set on college. I'm scared this whole suspension thing will keep me from getting in where I want to go. That's why I set up this conference."

"I looked at your academic record. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, Mr. H. You're the only one who believed me. Thanks for never tellin' my dad. If you had, Hendry would prob'ly be dead now and Dad would be in prison."

"Well . . . " he shrugged. "Anyway, I think your chances of going to college are excellent. It's true, you failed two courses in the spring of 2013, but you made them up last fall, with grades of A in both. In fact, you had a straight A average for all of last year. And your freshman GPA was a satisfactory B, and even with the two F's on your record, for sophomore year you still barely pulled out a B by one point. If you keep up the A work and do well on the SAT's, you can get into a college."

"But I don't want to get into just _any_ college. It's important that I can get into a good one."

"I understand."

They drank their coffee for a few minutes and had finished by the time Mrs. Flanagan ushered in the Steffasons. Adolphus—he'd usually been known as "Fuss" in Gravity Falls, his old high-school nickname from his own football-playing days—had the build of a fullback too fond of beer: balding, with a bad comb-over, square-shouldered, heavy-set, with a gut that bulged over his belt. The light gray suit he wore did nothing to disguise that. His wife, Myrette, looked like an aging cheerleader, her hair still blonde (thanks to the miracle of modern dyes) and her face was at first glance smooth and youthful, until you noticed the tiny cracks in the layer of makeup. She wore a black sheath dress, as if at a funeral.

"I agreed to this meeting," Steffason was grumbling when they came in, "in hopes that someone from this school will testify so our boy doesn't have to spend any time in jail. That jury was a joke! They didn't even listen to the testimony about how important Hendry was to school morale!"

"Please be seated," Mrs. Flanagan said. "This young lady is Wendy Corduroy."

Mr. Steffason's face turned purple. "The tramp who claimed—"

"Fuss," Mr. Halpers said quietly, "keep a civil tongue in your head."

"I won't stand here and—"

"You and your wife will want to listen to me," Wendy said, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice. "Believe me." She looked at Myrette. "This is important. Tell your husband."

Wendy could not read Mrs. Steffason's expression, but the woman held onto her husband's arm and pulled him toward the table. "Sit down, Fuss." She took a seat herself and crossed her hands over the purse that she held in her lap.

He hovered behind the chair next to her, puffing like a man who'd just run a mile. "I'm not going to put up with—"

"Fuss, sit down!" Mr. Halpers snapped. "You didn't help your son in court, and you're not going to help him by being an idiot now!"

Muttering and growling, the heavy man sank into the chair across from Wendy.

Wendy opened her folder and took out five sheets of printout paper, each one single-spaced and gray with type. She dealt them to him like cards. "I have affidavits from five girls at Olaf's Private School swearing that Hendry either raped or tried to rape them," she said. "Five. I make six. If this conference doesn't go right, I'm callin' the D.A. as soon as it ends. Tomorrow, every one of us will be in court to give our sworn testimony. Your son will be lucky to get out of prison by the time he turns fifty."

"Lies!" A spray of spit flew from the man's mouth.

"Damn it!" Wendy pounded the table with the flat of her hand. "Hendy is no good! You think I was the only girl he attacked in Gravity Falls? No! If I wanted to, I could round up at least four more! _These_ five girls are all from Olaf! These are the ones he attacked just in the last year and a half, and I'm not even countin' the one who was brave enough to press charges!"

Steffason made as if to lurch to his feet, but his wife grabbed his arm again. "Sit down!" she ordered, her voice surprisingly firm. "I've been trying to tell you this for years! If it takes locking him up to stop this, let him be locked up! It's better than leaving him to run loose and hurt other girls. And I don't care if he is my son! It has to stop, Fuss! It has to stop!"

It took forty minutes of negotiations and bluff and bluster from Adolphus Steffason, but they finally reached an agreement.

After the Steffasons left, Wendy broke down and cried. Mrs. Flanagan hugged her. Mr. Halpers got up and paced the room. "Well," he said, "I don't think there'll be any problem getting your record cleaned up, Wendy. Especially not with our new principal. She's more open to reason, and more sympathetic."

"I hate that none of these girls will show up to testify, though" Wendy said. "What if Hendry gets a suspended sentence?"

Halpers picked up the affidavits of the five students. "I don't think that will happen," he said. "It's possible that one or more of these girls will come forward on their own."

Mrs. Flanagan excused herself to go make some phone calls, and Halpers got Wendy another cup of coffee. "Gonna make me jumpy," she said. "But thanks, Mr. H."

By the time they'd finished their second cups, Mrs. Flanagan came back. "All right, this won't be official until tomorrow morning, but I've spoken to the principal and two of your teachers and explained everything, and this is what we've agreed to. Wendy, you were hurt after the fight behind the gym, correct?"

She shrugged. "Not bad. Bruised ribs, skin busted on my knuckles."

"Split lip, too," Halpers said. "I saw her take a punch from Hendry right in the face."

Mrs. Flanagan nodded. "So you were physically injured. Very well. The days of your suspension will be reflected in the record as sick days. Both your teachers tell me they are very happy that you made up the work in their classes, and they'll change the F grades for spring to incompletes and show you did the make-up work and earned your A's. That brings your sophomore GPA up to a low A, and your overall GPA should be just about an A, too, or within a point or two of it. You can even bring that up next year if you keep doing well. I know that you'll have to go one extra term to graduate, but you won't mind that."

"Not at all," Wendy said, not bothering to hide the relief in her voice.

"Good. If any college entrance committee asks, simply say you were ill and that you committed to make up the work and did so in the next regular school term. That's all they'll need to know."

"And if you need letters of recommendation," Halpers said, "I know every teacher in this school, and believe me, if I ask them, they'll give you glowing ones. You keep up the good work, and I'm sure you can get into any college you want."

"Thank you both so much," Wendy said. She gathered up the loose papers and put them back in the folder. "I was so scared, comin' in here."

"You stood up for what's right," Mrs. Flanagan said. "It takes courage to do that."

Wendy nodded absently and dropped the folder in the wastebasket. "I was still scared." She sighed. "I hope Hendry gets some prison time, anyway. So many of them don't."

"He was arrogant and unrepentant on the witness stand," Halpers told her. "I worried about that boy the whole time he was in school here, and I followed the trial in the news. The judge is level-headed and won't be swayed by bullying. I don't think Hendry will go free."

"Well," Wendy said, "I guess I'd better get to work."

"Call in sick," Mrs. Flanagan suggested kindly. "You've had a hard day."

"No, I'm goin' in," Wendy told her. She smiled. "I _like_ work. And I've got friends there. Not my oldest friends, but I think they're my best ones. Thanks, both of you, for believing me."

"We don't just believe you," Halpers said. "We believe _in_ you."

Wendy was out the door, in her car, and on her way to the Shack when Mr. Halpers stooped over and retrieved the folder from the wastebasket. "Keith!" Mrs. Flanagan said. "She promised the Steffasons she wouldn't get in touch with those girls!"

"She did. I didn't," he said.

And by then Wendy was almost at the driveway up to the Shack, feeling happier at the sight of its new sign and its new shrubbery, and as she made the turn she saw that tour buses already crammed the parking lot.

 _Man, we're busy! Dipper will be glad to see me,_ she thought. She parked, reached back for the bag with her street clothes in it, and swung into the Shack with a big smile on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

* * *

 **From the Journals of Dipper Pines:**

" _OK," Wendy said on Wednesday afternoon as she closed the cash register. "How 'bout going out to eat with me, Dipper? Yumberjacks?"_

 _I smiled like an idiot, but she'd surprised me. "You don't have to run straight back home?"_

" _Nope. Off restriction at home now. 'Cuz I came up with a plan. I cook for Dad and my brothers four days a week—but I freeze three extra dinners for them. So now and then, I can stay out late and they can pop my cooking into the microwave and still not have to turn on the stove. Fact, I'm not sure any of them know how!"_

" _I'd love to go!" I told her. "Want me to get Mabel?"_

" _Not this time," Wendy said. "Let's go grab some dinner, and then maybe, I dunno, drive out to the lake for a little while? Just to talk?"_

 _Something in her voice made me look at her hard. "What's the matter?"_

" _You're quick, Big Dipper. But let's eat first, and then I'll talk. It's nothing that'll affect us, though—not if you don't let it."_

" _OK." But by then I was worried. She seemed so downbeat—and she didn't want to hold my hand, which, I thought, meant she had something to hide . . . ._

* * *

"Teek's burgers are better than these," Wendy said.

Dipper nodded. "Soos was lucky to find him."

"Yeah," Wendy said, grinning. "So's Mabel! You're not all protective an' hoverin' now, are you?"

Dipper thought about it. "Teek's a nice guy, unlike a lot of the ones Mabel's had crushes on. He seems, I don't know . . . respectful? And he and Mabel laugh a lot together. That's a good thing. So—no, I guess not. Mabel tells me I can trust Teek."

"Do you?"

"I trust _her_."

"Finished?"

"Yep," Dipper said, crumpling up his napkins and taking the tray with his and Wendy's empty drink cups over to the trash can. "Lake?"

"Lake," Wendy said.

They sat on the beach, leaning into each other and watched the boats puttering over to Scuttlebutt Island. "Are we gonna come and watch the fireworks tomorrow?" Wendy asked.

"I'd love that. Maybe sit on the dock again." He was thinking of how they'd gone to the strange dimension where they saw a TV cartoon version of their own lives, how after that he'd arranged for Wendy to drive an actual tank, and of how he'd sat alone on the dock on the night of July 4, and she'd come up behind him, sat down next to him, and they'd had their first real romantic kiss.

She chuckled. "Yeah, I remember it, too," she said. "'Specially the kiss."

Oh. Their weird telepathy. Their arms had been touching. She'd heard his thoughts.

He sat more upright. "Oh, yeah, That kiss was . . . pretty great," he said.

As if not wanting to break their connection, Wendy reached out and took Dipper's hand. "OK, man, you ready for this?"

"For what?"

 _And then it came, in a burst, like a scene from a movie being played in his mind: Wendy in a white van, fighting a boy taller and much heavier than she was—the boy growling like an animal, cursing Wendy, punching her, ripping at her flannel shirt, then grabbing her bra and tearing it right off her—Wendy falling out of the van, leaping up, and fighting back, half-naked in what obviously was a cold, cold winter night—_

"Oh, my God!" Dipper gasped. "Was that—that the guy who hit you? Did he—"

"He didn't," Wendy said aloud. "Not for lack of trying."

She told him the rest of it, all about the one-time date she'd had with Hendry Steffason, about how he'd not only tried, but failed, to rape her and then had lied to the other boys at school—Wendy Corduroy was easy, man, a pushover, look here I got her bra—

"I'll kill him!" Dipper said savagely.

She grabbed his hand again. _"No, you won't."_

— _But he tried to rape you! He humiliated you!_

" _And I made the biggest mistake I ever made. I beat him up and got myself suspended from school. I didn't let Dad know, or the police. And since that day in December, a year and a half ago, now, Hendry Steffason attacked six more girls that I know of. If I'd had the guts to stand up and press charges, I might have saved them. I'm ashamed of myself, Dipper_."

In contact with her, Dipper felt the flood of her fears: Manly Dan would have killed the guy. Wendy was terrified of testifying in court—knowing how lawyers twist things in cross-examination: _"Why did you accept a date with my client?" "Why did you agree to ride with him alone in the van?" "Wasn't having sex your idea?"_

" _See, Dipper, I'm not smart about people. I let myself be too scared of what might happen. So, I chickened out, man. And Hendry went on to hurt more girls. I'm responsible for that."_

— _No, you're not! Wendy,_ _we've got to do something!_

" _It's been done. Heard it on the news during my lunch break. Hendry was tried and convicted for raping a girl at Olaf's Private School over in Morris. Today at his sentencing hearing, three more girls showed up and told their stories. He'd raped two of them and had tried with another one, and they all showed up in court and spoke out. Judge listened to them, dude. First-degree rape on the charge the jury convicted him of. He's going to prison for the maximum sentence, twenty years, Dipper. He'll have to serve at least ten before he comes up for a parole hearing."_

— _That seems light to me, Wendy._

" _Me, too, Dipper. That's why I'm askin'—in ten years, would it hurt you if I got in touch with the parole board? Maybe got some others that Hendry attacked to do the same?"_

— _Not at all!_

" _It'd make me feel better."_

— _I'll be there for you. I'll support you all the way. Heck, by then I'll even drive you to the courthouse myself!_

Aloud, Wendy said, "I dunno why, but—it made me so damn _ashamed_ of myself, the whole thing. Rationally, I know it wasn't my fault, but still, I don't think I'd ever felt that way before. Took weeks before I started to feel halfway like myself again. That's why I slagged off on my schoolwork, why I'm a term behind in high school."

"I didn't know."

"Didn't tell anybody, man. But you know what? I'm gonna start wearin' this from now on, in school and out." She reached into her shirt pocket and brought out a teal-colored ribbon. "Symbol of an advocacy group for preventing sexual violence and for supporting the survivors. Hope you won't mind my makin' myself sort of a billboard for that cause."

"If you've got another one, I'll wear it," Dipper said. "It's a good one to wear. And Wendy—I'm sorry for keeping after you to work harder in school."

She shrugged. "Eh! I needed some keepin' after, but I was, like, depressed. One of the reasons I didn't text or call you as often as I should have. And my grades suffered, of course. But I took care of that the other day, Dipper. The girl sittin' next to you now officially has an A average in high school!"

Dipper fidgeted and hesitated, but finally blurted: "Wendy—I have to ask—it doesn't bother me, but—did that experience make you feel, you know, afraid of . . . being close to a guy?"

"It did in a way. I was so mad, so hurt, and so upset by what the guys in high school were saying about me and thinking about me—tell you the truth, it turned me way off." She hugged him, pulling him close against her. _"Good thing I got you. I was scared to tell you, Big Dipper. Stupid of me. You're one of the good guys, man. It's gonna be great between us, Dipper."_

It took him a second to realize she had thought that last part to him, not spoken it aloud. Sitting, they were almost the same height. He touched her face, turned it toward him, and kissed her. Passionately.

" _Wow, man! Hey, it's too early!"_

— _Too early for what?_

" _These fireworks I'm seeing!"_

And that time she kissed him . . . and showed him.

* * *

 _This story is dedicated, in gratitude, to SuperGroverAway._

 _If you haven't read SGA's excellent fanfiction, what are you WAITING FOR?_

 _The End_


End file.
